


(i keep telling myself) i'm not the desperate type

by punkpete



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, D/s undertones, Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Hiatus, Power Bottom Patrick Stump, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sasstrick, Srar era, just a lil, sappy and dumb boyfriends, there's definitely some, this fic is patrick being mean to pete for 20 minutes straight, why am i like this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 08:29:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17179460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punkpete/pseuds/punkpete
Summary: Pete is back to trying to avoid looking in Patrick’s direction at all, but he can feel his knees get weak when he sings the words friction in your jeans and he has to stare at Patrick out of the corner of his vision again. God fucking damn him.Is it wrong to get turned on by his own lyrics? Sue him. He can’t be blamed when Patrick has a voice like that.





	(i keep telling myself) i'm not the desperate type

This particular day is an exercise in Pete’s restraint. He’s never been the epitome of self control to begin with, so Patrick is really testing him. Pete is used to taking what he wants when he wants it. The band being back together feels like a dream come true within itself. Pete has waited a long time for him and Patrick to be in a good place again. 

 

It turns out being in the best place they’ve ever been still results in some kind of torture. At least in Pete’s opinion. 

 

But he admits Patrick being so happy and carefree in front of an audience is refreshing. He looks like he’s having fun. He plays the innocent routine so well. Even when he’s making Pete hard in a public place while he’s wearing leather fucking pants. 

 

It starts off like any other acoustic set. Pete is bored without his bass. Patrick is a little anxious, because he hates performing songs acoustically and it makes him self conscious. But he puts on a brave face and loosens up as time goes on. 

 

“I’ve never done this before.” Patrick states, and before Pete can even stop himself he leans forwards into the mic and grins.

 

“So this is sex?” So maybe Pete deserves everything Patrick has to throw at him today. Whatever. It was just a joke. Totally harmless. Patrick laughed, always good natured about Pete’s invasive comments. Whether they’re true or not. If only people knew how _ not  _ true that was. And how Pete knew that exactly. 

 

“Yes! Yeah, yeah.” Patrick beams back at him and rolls up his sleeves. He starts strumming his guitar and Pete encourages the audience to sing along to  _ The Phoenix _ , cause it’s a new one. 

 

Pete claps along with Joe and Andy but his mind is starting to drift. He tries his hardest to not look at Patrick, because it’s like staring directly into the sun. But he keeps looking at him out of the corner of his eye, he can’t help it. Patrick is magnetic when he performs, the way he taps his foot to the beat and his voice travels through the air. His clothes are messy, haphazard as he starts to sweat with exertion. His fringe falls across his forehead and Pete is mesmerized. 

 

About halfway through the song, between verses, Patrick makes eye contact with him and Pete feels like he’s pinned in place by his steely gaze.

 

Patrick dips his head, looks up at him through his eyelashes and mouths something that looks suspiciously like  _ I can’t wait for you to tear me apart.  _

 

Pete is stunned, couldn’t school his features into anything less than obscene if he tried. He smiles, lopsided and wolfish.

_ Anything you want, _ he tries to mouth back. 

 

He keeps clapping, and Patrick smirks at him before he starts making those frankly illegal noises again. Pete goes back to mouthing the lyrics to distract himself, but he feels as if his blood is on fire. He fidgets, turns in his seat and accidentally brushes against Andy’s leg. He adjusts himself again and starts clapping a hand against his thigh. 

 

Pete is anxious, he feels like everyone here is staring at him and knows exactly what he’s thinking about. He hovers his hands over his crotch protectively, as if that doesn’t make it even more obvious. In between songs, Patrick makes a comment about keeping on his sweater even though it’s hot because he’s a die hard. One of the audience members suggests he should take it off and Patrick mocks them playfully in return. Pete desperately wishes he would take the fucking cardigan off. 

 

When Patrick transitions into  _ Sugar  _ Pete’s heart is threatening to beat out of his chest. 

 

He decides to sit back on the floor and mess around with his phone for a minute, mostly because he can feel the adrenaline coursing through him and he’s way too close to pushing Patrick onto the floor and mounting him. He tries to keep up appearances, smiles and laughs up at Patrick in his element. 

 

Eventually, he stands back up to sit in his seat and he starts to fidget with his phone. His leg is bouncing so hard that his hands are shaking. Pete glances over and makes eye contact with Joe, who gives him a look that’s far too knowing and smug for comfort. 

 

Pete is back to trying to avoid looking in Patrick’s direction at all, but he can feel his knees get weak when he sings the words  _ friction in your jeans  _ and he has to stare at Patrick out of the corner of his vision again. God fucking damn him. 

 

Is it wrong to get turned on by his own lyrics? Sue him. He can’t be blamed when Patrick has a voice like that. 

 

Pete is pretty sure he looks ridiculous now, he’s definitely zoning out and licking his lips a little too much. When the song comes to a close, Patrick looks at him and smiles again while pulling down his sleeves until he has sweater paws. Pete is hopelessly endeared and incredibly horny all at once. It’s an odd combination. 

 

He feels like his skin is itching, he can’t wait to get the car back to their hotel room so he can ravish his boyfriend. He’s been half hard all day and Patrick just wants to make it worse. Patrick wipes the sweat off his face with his cardigan sleeve and takes his guitar down the hall to the dressing room where his case is. Pete would offer to carry it, but Patrick won’t let anyone else touch it, not even him. 

 

Pete follows, hot on his heels, draping himself against Patrick’s back like the desperate fucker that he is. Over the years he’s only become more shameless. He starts kissing at Patrick’s neck, he can’t help himself. Patrick reaches back to pinch his waist in reprimand as he closes his guitar case and grabs it by the handle. He stands up to his full height and turns to face Pete with a mischievous glint in his eyes. 

 

Before he can say anything, Joe and Andy both walk into the dressing room and share a conversation just through blinks. 

 

“You guys are gross. Get a room.” Joe says eloquently. Andy places his sunglasses on top of his head and squints at them.

 

“You already have a room, actually. That’s what hotels are for. Can’t you keep it in your pants until then?” Andy sighs. Patrick snorts.

 

“You overestimate my self control. By a long shot.” Pete laughs and nuzzles against Patrick’s neck. Patrick bats him away and starts walking down the hallway out the back towards their car. 

 

“Don’t worry. I’ll keep him in check!” Patrick calls over his shoulder. 

 

“Somehow I doubt that.” Joe grumbles, but follows Patrick outside. Andy shoves him forwards and they all make their way to the car. 

 

Sitting in the backseat of a town car with his band is something Pete thought would never happen. Vans, tour buses, absolutely. But sitting in the back of a fancy vehicle with snacks and mini TV screens and champagne seems way too extravagant. It’s hard for him to believe still. 

 

Even if they’re all squished uncomfortably close together. The only upside to this is the fact that Pete has an excuse to let Patrick squirm onto his lap. Which really isn’t helping his erection whatsoever. But Patrick is warm and soft and he smells like home. 

 

Pete settles his chin on Patrick’s shoulder and smiles the whole ride back. Patrick is tapping his fingers against his thigh to a song only he can hear. Next to them, Joe looks ready to fall asleep. Andy is squished against the door with his headphones in.

 

When they reach the hotel, Patrick pulls the key card to their room out of his front pocket. Pete pouts, unable to hold Patrick’s hands when he’s holding his guitar in one and the card in the other. Luckily for Joe and Andy, their rooms are on different floors. However, Pete is hoping to avoid a noise complaint this time. It’s embarrassing when people knock on their door and recognize them. Not to mention risky. 

 

Pete trails behind him into the elevator and all the way up to floor number six. As soon as the door is locked behind them, Patrick sets down his guitar and shrugs the cardigan down off his shoulders. Pete throws the hat off his head and Patrick lets him discard his fedora as well. They both lean down to haphazardly take off their shoes, and then Pete is shoving Patrick back towards the bed until he falls onto the white bedspread. 

 

Pete presses sloppy kisses to Patrick’s face as he unbuttons his shirt and Patrick shoves Pete’s shirt up towards his armpits. After a bit of struggling and grabbing at any exposed skin, they’ve managed to get naked and pressed up against each other. Pete’s heart aches, he can’t wait to get Patrick singing for him and  _ only _ him. 

 

Pete kisses all of the overwhelming feelings he’s having into Patrick’s mouth, before he realizes that the lube is across the room. In his suitcase. Shit. Pete groans, and forcibly pulls himself away from Patrick’s grabby hands. Patrick whines petulantly, and frowns up at him with glazed eyes. 

 

“I’ll be right there, babe.” Pete soothes, fumbling off the bed and digging through his suitcase pockets. Most of his clothes are strung around the room, mixed in with Patrick’s, and he makes a mental note to steal Patrick’s Bowie shirt when they have another flight in a few days. He pumps his fist in victory when he finds the bottle of lube and makes his way back to his boy. 

 

Pete presses himself between Patrick’s thighs and leans down to suck a mark into the pale expanse of his tummy. Patrick whimpers and buries a hand in his hair. Pete sinks his teeth into the hallowed skin of Patrick’s thighs and tries to make a heart with his canines. He licks his handiwork, and finally flicks open the bottle of lube to pour it onto his fingers. 

 

“You’re a  _ tease _ .” Patrick growls. 

 

“That’s rich, coming from you today. You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Pete chuckles, and then he crosses two of his fingers and presses them inside of Patrick in one slow, fluid motion. Patrick moans, and it’s the most beautiful music Pete has ever heard. Even better than Patrick singing his words back to him. Pete uses his free hand to pin Patrick’s hips against the mattress and curls his fingers until he finds what he’s looking for.

 

“Jesusfuckingchrist-” Patrick groans out all in one breath and tightens the grip he has on the nape of Pete’s neck. Pete twists his wrist and feels Patrick melt against the sheets, his body going pliant. 

 

“That’s it, baby. Let me take care of you.” Pete babbles. Patrick’s brow furrows at this, his mouth falling open because Pete’s fingers are magical, but probably also because his face is flushing with anger. Guess he didn’t like that comment very much. He swats away the hand Pete has on his waist and seems determined to prove Pete wrong. Patrick doesn’t like it when he does all the work. 

 

Patrick bites his lush bottom lip and perches himself up on his elbows so he can gather some momentum and start moving his hips against Pete’s fingers. Pete laughs, exhilarated at the prospect of watching Patrick use him to get off. 

 

“Somehow, I always knew you were a power bottom.” Pete raises his eyebrows at him, impressed. Sweat is dripping down Patrick’s neck, his face flushed. Pete wants to lick him all over.

 

“I prefer bossy.” Patrick pants, leaning back against the headboard and gesturing for Pete to swap places with him. Pete complies, because as much fun as it is to rile Patrick up, it’s much more fun to have an orgasm. 

 

Patrick settles himself on Pete’s lap, facing him, and strokes Pete’s cock until he’s slick and hard in his palm. Pete grunts, and Patrick settles his hands on Pete’s shoulders and drags his nails down his back as he slowly sinks down on Pete’s length. 

 

Pete’s face twists into a grimace as he forces himself to hold back, to let Patrick control the pace and not come immediately. He stares up at Patrick’s face, full on concentration and pleasure. His eyelashes flutter as his eyes fall closed, and Pete can’t help but slide his hands down Patrick’s spine and grab his ass. 

 

“You’re beautiful.” Pete whispers, his voice raw and sincere as he traces around the place where they’re connected. 

 

“Sweet-talker.” Patrick tsks, but he smiles at Pete and starts to bounce up and down. Pete feels as if he’s holding on for dear life in the best way possible. He’s never met anyone who can move their hips quite like Patrick does. 

 

Patrick sucks a mark into Pete’s neck and settles in his lap, keeping his cock deep inside. Pete whines, begging Patrick to keep going. 

 

Patrick pulls back to give him a challenging look. “Make me.” Patrick laughs, soft and tinkling like music. 

 

Pete doesn’t hesitate, grabs Patrick by the waist and flips him over until Pete is the one towering over him. Back in control, but only because it’s what Patrick wants from him. Pete really can’t complain about their power dynamic.  

 

Pete plants his hands on Patrick’s chest and presses wet kisses to his face as he starts to thrust into him, picking up a hard and fast rhythm. Patrick whines, moans, pleads for release. Pete gives it to him. He can feel Patrick clenching around his dick, tight and hot. The heat is building in his groin, his balls drawing up close to his body. 

 

“I’m not gonna last, baby.” Pete warns. Patrick grins up at him, sex-drunk, and arches his back and widens his legs with invitation. To save his dignity, but also to make his boyfriend feel good, he reaches his hand down between them and starts to stroke Patrick’s cock. Patrick comes first, his mouth open wide in a silent scream and his dick spurting across his stomach and slickening Pete’s palm. He locks up tight like a vice around Pete, and he can’t help himself when he brings his hand to his mouth for a taste. 

 

Pete groans, and then he’s coming hard with a shout of Patrick’s name as he ruts helplessly while his cock twitches and his muscles spasm, stars exploding behind his eyes. Pete has never felt this way with anyone else. 

 

“Get off me, you oaf.” Patrick huffs, his nose scrunching up in annoyance. Pete has never been so in love in his entire life. He pulls out and rolls off Patrick. 

 

“I love you.” Pete says, pushing Patrick’s sweaty bangs out of his face. Patrick’s expression softens into molten honey. 

 

“I love you too. But...I have to go take a shower since you didn’t use a condom. Goddamnit. You’re like a dog, I swear. Always have to mark your territory.” Patrick pinches his nipple and stumbles out of the hotel bed towards the shower. Pete’s braying laugh rings out in the space between them. 

 

“Can you blame me?” He calls at Patrick’s back. Pete falls back into the sheets and puts his arms behind his head, incredibly satisfied. 

 

“You’re an enigma, dear. I don’t know why I fell in love with you. You’re creepy. And weird.” Patrick deadpans, closing the bathroom door behind him. 

 

Pete directs his blinding grin at the ceiling, and he waits for the love of his life to come back to him. Patrick always does. Pete is pretty sure it’s a universal law. 

**Author's Note:**

> in case this is the last thing i post before 2019, belated merry christmas. i was sad i couldn't participate in the collection, but i hope this is a nice treat. dedicated to my lovely friend abi. based off a real fob performance, which you can watch [here.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xBMKL7TkO_A&index=2&list=WL&t=0s) the moment that haunted me is around 2:04 at which point i desperately wished i could read lips. 
> 
> i also wanna say thank you to everyone who has read, left a comment, or left kudos on my works. i've only been in bandom for two years and writing for half that time but i have been welcomed into this community with open arms.
> 
> i have nearly 100k words in peterick under my belt this year. i never thought i could write that much, let alone about these two rock stars slash loveable dorks. 
> 
> here's to many more stories with our wonderful boys. see you in 2019, aka danger days. i might even have some frerard in store for you!
> 
> you can find me on tumblr @gothfob :)
> 
> title is from 7 minutes in heaven (atavan halen) by fob 
> 
> p.s. yes i know i have two other WIPs i should be writing and i am so sorry writer's block is a goddamn bitch.


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